traditions

Spring Cleaning – Day 862

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Signs of Spring – Photo: L. Weikel

Spring Cleaning

Spring Cleaning. What a trite title for a post. But there you have it; a comprehensive recitation of the focus of my day. Perhaps it’s because we’re marking the completion of an entire year of spending 99.98% of our time in and around our home, but the urge to engage in spring cleaning this year is both palpable and urgent.

I’ve toyed with asking a dear friend of mine who is particularly skilled (read: ruthless) at this art to come over and help me purge, but the risk of contracting Covid is still too great.

One of the hardest things about this whole process is that I’m not a shopper. So-called ‘retail therapy’ is not a thing with me. I actually loathe strongly dislike having to go to the store and buy stuff. And before you even think it, let me assure you: I hate the idea of shopping online even more. YUCK.

Aversion

The reason I’m mentioning this aversion to shopping, though, is because I (and by extension Karl and I) tend to buy solid, good quality stuff. The good part about this is that most of what we buy lasts a long time. In fact, it’s easy for us to lose track of time because our possessions tend to last a long time and we lose track of time.

The downside, of course, is that we don’t like to get rid of things when they still have life in them. Alternatively, and I know I speak mostly for myself here as opposed to Karl, I also worry that I’ll give away something of value. And before you judge me as a greedy toad, I want to clarify that the greatest value I worry about squandering is the sentimental or ancestral value.

Why, I ask myself, do I not simply embrace the flow that I know is healthy and allow others to make use of that which sits dormant here in our home? Almost all versions of stuff can be replaced. Am I really thinking I will need all the pie plates I’ve accumulated over the years (because I couldn’t bear to throw out my mother’s or my aunt’s pie plates, even though I had some of my own)?

This question becomes even more penetratingly uncomfortable when I admit to myself that I’ve not baked a homemade pie in probably 20 years. Yeah. That inner admission hurts. And oddly makes me sad.

Fungible Goods?

The greatest exception to the perspective regarding the replaceable nature of things is stuff that our ancestors sat at, worked on, used their wedding money to purchase, or always took out at Christmas/Thanksgiving/birthdays, etc. Aaaarggh! The emotional tug is strong.

And I guess the reason for that is because society is disposable. And I can’t help but feel that the cavalier manner in which so much of what we use in our lives is tossed out (often on a whim or just because of wanting something new) is a reflection on how we feel about everything in life.

Yikes. I’m getting maudlin.

I guess I’ll end this here for tonight. Phew. I was going down a rabbit hole for sure.

More Croci – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-249)

Kiffel Mastery – Day 414

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Aunt Grace would be proud – Photo: L. Weikel

Kiffel Mastery

It’s been days since I embarked upon this quest. I’ve received an assortment of earnest clues from you, my companions on this 1111 devotion; glimpses of possibilities and tantalizing if elusive hints of how I might walk in the footsteps of Aunt Grace and bring forth the resurrection (at least in our household) of her nut-filled kiffels. I thank you for suggestions – they were all frustratingly, as I say, elusive.

Not the Only Tradition

Just as I’ve regaled you with memories of the walnut torte birthday cakes Aunt Grace would bake us (supplemented, of course, by Carol’s Chocolate Cake), I realize, now that I’ve been recently focusing my attention on my childhood, that kiffels were every bit as much a Christmas tradition in our home as the walnut torte was our birthday tradition.

To be sure, my father’s mother was an extraordinary baker in her own right, albeit not Hungarian (actually, mostly Irish). Grandma’s coffee cake, apple pie, and biscuits – oh my goodness, her biscuits, that didn’t even need butter on the soft, downy insides revealed when you broke one open – were enough to make you melt into a pool of drool.

And her coffee cake was indeed another part of our Christmas morning tradition – although I seem to recall she would bake that at other times of the year as well. Same with her apple pie, which was extraordinary. (My recollection of her apple pie is all about the crust. I remember eating all the cinnamon infused filling first so I could ever so slowly, bite by bite, savor the crust, baked just to the perfect state of doneness.)

Christmas Tradition

But on Christmas morning, all my nieces and nephews would have to sit on the stairs waiting for the adults to get their cups of coffee and settle into their spots in the living room before the stocking unpacking and present unwrapping extravaganza could commence. (I got to come down maybe a minute or so earlier to claim my ‘spot’ in the room, because I was technically in the generation of their parents.) Part of my parents’ and brothers and sisters’ ritual, once settled, was to pass to each other the round ‘tin’ lined with waxed paper that held the cherished Aunt Grace’s kiffels nestled in confectioner’s sugar. As a child, I favored the powdered sugar and could take or leave the kiffels themselves. But as maturity crept up on me, I began to appreciate the adults’ culinary discernment.

After we married and moved away, and Aunt Grace grew much older, my closest sister and her husband began making the kiffels. For a good ten years or so, they would see to it that a small round tin, lined in waxed paper and filled with kiffels, would be part of our continuing Christmas tradition.

Times Change

As I’ve mentioned recently, I was always under the impression that the desserts made by Aunt Grace were simply too difficult for me to replicate. So it’s only been in the past four years or so when I’ve actually started trying my hand at the walnut torte – and now, this year, the kiffels.

I find it fascinating to realize the pedestal upon which I placed these confections, honestly believing I did not have the baking skills to recreate them for myself. I’ve found I make tweaks to the walnut torte recipe; every time I make it I bring it inch-by-inch closer to capturing the essence of Aunt Grace’s cakes.

Kiffel Challenge

Which leads me to these kiffels and, in particular, the quest to recreate the quintessential nut filling.

So many of you remarked on egg whites, sugar, and walnuts. A few had butter in the recipe instead of egg whites. Nobody had a lot to say as far as proportions of those ingredients. But I’m delighted that you cared enough to give me your best ideas! Thank you!

This morning, though, I decided that I was either going to give it a try and ‘wing it’ as far as proportions – or I would have to let it go for the season. After gathering the ingredients for the nut filling as best as I could guess, I looked over one last time all the comments that were made either on the blog posts or via email. And then a miracle happened!

As if she’d heard me from afar, Aunt Grace had my niece write the exact recipe for her kiffels’ nut filling and post it under my blog post! Let me emphasize this:with exact measurements!  I was delighted! For whatever reason, just having that confirmation of exactly what she would use and in the proportions she used them made all the difference for me.

The Real Deal – Photo: L. Weikel

Eureka Moment

And then, as if the clouds parted and angels started singing, I suddenly fully comprehended that I’d not been rolling the kiffels – I’d been pinching them. Closing them and their fillings up as if they were pierogies. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

So now, all of a sudden, my creations look like kiffels, too!

I also made a point of allowing the balls to sit out a bit more before ‘wrastling’ them into submission with the rolling pin. The results are, if I may be so bold, spectacular.

The delectable deliciousness I’ve been indulging in this evening as the kiffels have come out of the oven and then bathed in a shower of confectioner’s sugar after cooling is so reminiscent of Christmases past that I feel a different sort of connection this year. I’m appreciating the tastes that accompanied the rituals of stockings and presents. The anticipation for and appreciation of Aunt Grace’s baking. And the warm feeling I have deep down that I eventually managed to get it right. Honestly, I think Aunt Grace was watching over me today, especially. It just all clicked into place and my hands knew what to do.

I’m committing these recipes to electronic and handwritten recipe cards. These traditions are too delicious and nurturing to the soul to lose.

(T-697)

Tradition and Evolution – Day Forty Four

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Tradition and Evolution

Overall, this Christmas was a grand experiment in shifting from one way of being to another. It felt like we were embarking upon a true transition from ‘the way we’ve always done things’ to ‘a new way.’ Just like any transition, it had its rough patches.

I’d say most of that evolution centered around the family ‘meal,’ which is probably where the vast majority of ‘tradition’ resides in many households.

Most of us in the family eat meat, but rarely. Others of us, however, eat meat never. And then there are those of us who not only don’t eat meat at all, but also do not eat anything even remotely associated with animals. No butter. No milk. No cheese. No eggs. Yes, there’s now a vegan in our midst.

Turkey Sandwiches Remain a Priority

We checked in before the holiday, and determined that turkey was still a hoped-for agenda item with those of us who still appreciate the sacrifices of our feathered brethren. Truth be told, it’s the turkey sandwiches on the horizon that are the real lure here. Piled high with stuffing savory and juicy from cooking in the bird, the turkey slices will nestle between a layer of cranberry sauce and mayonnaise, all held together with a multi-grain, seeded bread. Oooh yeah.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for those who no longer (or never did) enjoy the unparalleled goodness of leftover turkey sandwiches. But alas, that means there’s more for us who pander to our inner Neanderthal. (Which, parenthetically, 23andme tells me is part of my genetic makeup.) (Yeah, it explains a LOT.)

I have to admit, though, in preparing the mashed potatoes both the ‘old’ way and the ‘new,’ the difference would be something I could evolve toward. I’d miss the buttermilk and butter. But it could work.

The green bean casserole without the mushroom soup? Satisfied my vegan but not my vegetarian. I don’t know if I can make that leap yet either.

At Least My Stuffing Is Vegetarian-Approved

My stuffing is vegetarian-approved even when prepared as history dictates. It’s just the portion that cooks inside the bird that’s taboo. So that’s an easy compromise: that especially juicy stuffing can go on my turkey sandwich; thanks.

All, in all, though, I probably could have stepped up my game as far as the ‘protein’ I prepared for my ‘Vs.’ I thought sautéing some vegan sausages with onions and red peppers would make a nice addition to the stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans, but the expressions on their faces said, “Meh.”

I’ll work on that for next year.

And who knows? As our lives evolve and we witness the cataclysmic results of accelerating climate change day in and day out, it would not be outside the realm of possibility to imagine us going at least totally vegetarian by next year. Probably not vegan; not yet.

Although, I suppose, stranger things have happened.

As a family, we’re game to honor and appreciate our traditions while also exploring ways we can evolve and expand the way we walk forward into the future.

All that really matters is that we do it together.

(T-1067)